


Vampire Weekend

by Cynder2013



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Kidnapping, Originally Posted on Wattpad, Other, Panic Attacks, Trouble breathing, Vampires, inability to breathe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:02:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27030043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cynder2013/pseuds/Cynder2013
Summary: Getting kidnapped by a vampire king was not on Lyla's to-do list for the weekend. She should never have agreed to go on that date.
Kudos: 1





	1. Friday Night

The movie sucked. That would probably be the one thing that Lyla remembered from this date. Whoever thought it would be a good idea to make _Romeo and Juliet and Vampires_ without casting vampire actors as the vampires was a total idiot.

Fake blood sprayed across the screen. Beside her, Max failed to hold back a laugh. Lyla leaned over to whisper in his ear.

“Please tell me you’re enjoying this because it’s horrible.”

Max nodded and whispered back, “Isn’t that the only way to enjoy it?”

“Yes.” That was the first thing they’d agreed on the entire night.

Max stretched and oh so inconspicuously put one arm around Lyla’s shoulders. Lyla let him. He deserved to be able to brag about something to his friends after this was over. It wasn’t his fault that she wasn’t having a good time.

Dinner and a movie, the highest level of dating cliché. Her friends had organized it, because apparently actually caring about a class other than history meant that she was too serious and needed to go on a date. Why was she friends with them again? Oh, right, small town necessity. They were the only other girls each of them could stand to be around, all the others were some level of vampire wannabe.

A few minutes more and then the movie was finally, _finally_ over. Lyla and Max followed the crowd out of the theatre. Lyla blinked as her eyes watered in the bright lights of the entryway.

“That was fun,” Max said. “We should do this again some time?”

“Sure,” Lyla replied, “but maybe as friends?”

Max nodded, a little too quick to agree. Lyla raised one eyebrow questioningly.

“My sister thought this was a good idea,” he said by way of explanation. “She thinks I don’t go out enough. I’d rather be in my room playing video games.”

Lyla laughed. “You sound like my brother. That’s all he did before he went to university.”

“Your brother is DoctorBloodhound742, right?”

Lyla blinked. “What?”

Max blushed and rubbed the back of his head. “We, uh, message sometimes. A bunch of us at school teamed up to play _Crystal Knight_ last year and we sort of kept in contact. Could you tell him Ghostboy19 says hi?”

Lyla shook her head in disbelief. “You gamers are so weird.”

“And proud of it,” Max said. “Do you want me to walk you home now or should we go for ice cream first?”

“Would our crazy Cupids actually allow for ice cream?”

Max shrugged. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Lyla linked arms with Max. “Ice cream then. Sundaes, my treat.”

“Aren’t I supposed to be paying for stuff?” Max asked as they walked out of the building into the cool evening air.

“You paid for dinner and for that awful movie. It’s my turn.”

The sidewalks were full of people. It was Friday night and they were on the street that held the only movie theater in town, so crowding was to be expected. They passed a group of vampire wannabes smoking by the side entrance of the theater. Their black on black clothing blended into the shadows, with the only indications that there was anyone there being the lights at the ends of their cigarettes and flashes of silver jewelry.

Lyla wrinkled her nose at the smell of cigarette smoke. None of the vampires that she knew would ever think of smoking. It was far, far too smelly for them. Mr. Barns, their history teacher, also delighted in telling stories about vampires who’d accidently set themselves on fire and ended up horribly scared for the rest of eternity. She was pretty sure that those stories were made up, but it was hard to tell with Mr. Barns. He had been an actor for two hundred years before he retired to teach history, and that showed whenever he fell into storytelling mode. When he wanted his stories to be taken seriously, he was completely serious, even when it came to the hundreds of different stories he had to explain the scar he had on his cheek.

“Wannabes,” Max muttered. “Do they all fall asleep in biology or what?”

“I know, right?” Lyla agreed. “It’s ridiculous.”

“And how many vampires do you know who actually wear all black?”

Lyla pretended to count the number on her fingers. “I would say exactly zero, not counting the ones I haven’t met yet.”

Max nodded. “Exactly.”

They walked past the café where the owner played old vinyl records on Saturday and Sunday, past the street lamp that was always broken not matter how often it was fixed, and past the used bookstore next to the ice cream parlor. Max opened the door of the ice cream parlor and a cheery bell rang over their heads.

Monsieur Leblanc looked up as they entered. “Ah, little Max and darling Lyla, how good to see you! Where have you been? It’s been months since either of you were here last. Come in, come in! There are new flavours you must try.”

Max and Lyla sat down at the counter. There was never any point in trying to argue with Monsieur Leblanc, he considered it his duty to share his passion for food with everyone. His ice cream parlor had been around for fifty years or so, and every time anyone came in they had to try at least three new flavours before he would let them order anything.

Lyla obligingly put the spoonful of ice cream she was given into her mouth. Immediately a red taste exploded on her tongue.

“Blood raspberry,” Monsieur Leblanc said proudly. “I am told it is edible for humans.”

“More than edible,” Max told him. “Uh... is there real blood in it?”

“No, no,” Monsieur Leblanc shook his head. “Only the essence of blood; the taste, the feeling that vampires have when we consume it.”

“If this is what blood tastes like then I am checking the ‘vampire conversion’ box on my organ donor card,” Max said.

Monsieur Leblanc fed them almost two scoops worth of samples before they were allowed to choose a flavour for their ice cream sundaes. They ate them perched on the stools at the counter, talking quietly while watching as Monsieur Leblanc pressed ice cream samples on a pair of tourists who seemed completely overwhelmed by the enthusiastic vampire chef.

“Okay, _that_ was fun,” Lyla said as they left the shop.

Max nodded. “When your friends ask if you had a good time…”

“I’ll just pretend the movie was actually okay.”

They laughed. A cloud drifted over the moon, giving a silver cast to the sidewalk between the street lamps. Max jumped between the pools of lamplight, pulling Lyla along with him.

“You are such a child,” Lyla giggled.

Max stuck his tongue out at her and made a silly face. “Growing up is for adults.”

The sidewalk grew emptier as they headed away from the stores and restaurants of the town centre and towards the residential streets. There was a yell a few streets over and the sound of skateboards tearing up the pavement. Aside from those skateboarders, Lyla and Max were the only people outside in that area.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lyla saw something moving in front of the houses they were walking past. She turned her head to get a better look.

In a split second there were arms wrapped around her and she was lifted off her feet. Her scream was cut off when fangs sank into her neck and she went limp like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Lyla had never experienced a vampire bite before. When she donated blood she bled into a bag like everyone else in her family. She had heard around school that a vampire bite was the greatest high it was possible to get, and that was probably true if losing all concept of time and space was what constituted a great high. 

She was still floating in the sea of lightheaded nothingness when hot brine filled her nose and mouth. She sputtered, coughing and swallowing until her airways were clear. The heat momentarily cut through the haze, and just before she fell into complete darkness she heard a man’s silky voice whispering in her ear.

“My queen.”


	2. Saturday Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Multiple times in this story beginning this chapter, a character has difficultly breathing which leads to what can be read as a panic attack. If you need to leave, now's the time.

Lyla choked. Her nose and mouth were filled with blood and dirt. Earth pressed down on her, making it impossible for her to breathe. Automatically her hands moved to dig up through the blanket of earth separating her from the open air. In no time at all she was aboveground, gasping.

She was breathing, but it did nothing.

Air moved in and out of her lungs faster and faster. She grew lightheaded. She dropped to her hands and knees, spitting out the dirt in her mouth like that would stop her from suffocating in the night air.

“My queen!”

Cool liquid touched her cracked lips.

“Drink, my love.”

Lyla needed no encouragement. She gulped down the liquid, barely letting it have the time to sooth her dry throat before she completely finished it. She took a deep breath and her head finally began to clear. She looked down and saw a slim hand holding the remains of a plastic pouch with a white label. The tiny volume of liquid that remained in the pouch was blood red.

Of course it was. It was blood.

Lyla jumped to her feet, dislodging the gentle hand that was resting on her back. She turned to face the smiling young man who was now standing next to her.

“You did this,” she said through gritted teeth. “You-”

Her feet shifted in the dirt. She launched herself at him, her brand new fangs piercing her bottom lip as she snarled.

She was going to kill him.

The man dropped the empty blood bag and caught her upraised hands in his own. They stood braced against each other, neither of them able to overcome the other’s strength.

“You converted me,” Lyla snarled.

“I chose you to be my queen,” the man replied. “I love you.”

“You don’t even know me.”

Somewhere in the distance, a cow mooed. To Lyla’s now vampiric hearing it sounded like the cow was right next to them. She jumped and the man took that as his opportunity to restrain her.

“I do know you,” he said. “You are my heart.”

“That’s not weird at all,” Lyla choked out. “Can’t breathe.”

His arm was around her neck. It was uncomfortable, to the say the least.

The man let go of her neck and wrapped both of his arms around her waist. He held her close to his chest and if anyone had been watching them it would have seemed as if they really were in love.

Being held that way gave Lyla a good view of the empty fields stretching out as far as any eye, human or vampire, could see. There were rolls of hay dotting some of the fields, but aside from that and the farmhouse at her back there were no other signs that there was anyone living in the immediate area. Her purse was gone, which meant no cell phone even if she could have gotten a signal out here. She could try running, but she was sure that the man would have no trouble catching her before she got to anywhere she could find help.

He had the speed of a vampire too.

“Let us go inside, my love, and I will show you our new home.”

Lyla let him take her hand and lead her into the farmhouse.

The first thing she noticed about the house was that it smelled of blood, like it had been painted in it. Her fangs, which had shrunk down into human sized eyeteeth when the man had restrained her, extended when she smelled it.

The man turned on the light. “Mother, we’re home!”

His only answer was silence.

He looked at Lyla with a smile. “Don’t worry, she’ll love you.”

They went into the sitting room and the scent of blood that permeated the house was suddenly, horribly explained. Spread out across the carpeted floor were the remains of a middle-aged woman sitting in pools of her congealed blood. Her disembodied head was resting on the seat of an upholstered armchair. 

Lyla screamed so loudly that a cat hanging around outside jumped up and ran away from the house with its fur standing on end. No matter how much she tried she couldn’t look away from that poor woman.

“Hush, my love. Mother doesn’t like loud noises,” the man chided.

Then he turned to the horrific scene and said, “Mother, this is my queen.”

The collection of body parts on the floor didn’t reply.

The man smiled. “Yes, she is very beautiful.”

He paused again, then said, “You are probably right, Mother. Are you tired, my love?”

Lyla started. “Y-y-yes, my king,” she decided to say, praying that it was the right answer.

The man smiled at her. “Then let us retire. I will show you the rest of the house in the morning. Goodnight, Mother!”

The man sent Lyla a step ahead of him as they went up the stairs. She tried to control her shaking and failed utterly, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

He opened the first door at the top of the stairs. It opened into a large bedroom with a queen-sized bed up against the far wall next to the windows and picture frames on every available surface. As the man led her inside Lyla saw one photo on the bookshelf that showed the man sitting with the dead woman on a wooden fence, both of them with smiles so wide that their cheeks must have ached. Another photo showed the man standing next to a tractor with an older man who looked exactly like him apart from his grey hair, the man’s father.

Lyla let the man tuck her into the bed, which thankfully wasn’t home to any blood or body parts. When he was asleep, she thought, she would jump out of the window and run, run as fast as she could away from this place. Her hopes were dashed when he climbed into bed beside her and held her tight to his chest.

“Goodnight, my queen. Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight,” Lyla squeaked.

Despite everything, she fell asleep. Her dreams were filled with dripping blood and severed heads.


	3. Sunday Morning

When she woke, she couldn’t breathe.

The rational part of her knew that, as a vampire, being able to breathe required the drinking of blood, which would diffuse into her veins to carry oxygen and carbon dioxide, but the rest of her was too busy panicking to give rationality any mind.

The man entered the bedroom while Lyla was clutching her throat. She leapt at him while he was still at the door, grabbing the bag of blood he was holding and piercing the plastic with her fangs.

“Good morning, my queen,” the man said.

Lyla quickly lifted her head and said, “Good morning, my king,” before going back to draining the blood bag.

This blood drinking thing was going to be a big problem.

The man was polite enough to wait for Lyla to finish drinking before he insisted they finish their tour of the farmhouse. Every room downstairs still smelled of blood, but at least he didn’t take her into the sitting room again. She was sure that if she saw Mother again she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from throwing up.

“And here is the kitchen,” the man narrated. “Do you like it, my dear?”

The kitchen, like the rest of the house, was warm and welcoming. It was just the sort of place Lyla would have liked to live, without the being kidnapped by an unstable vampire murderer.

Lyla gave a shaky smile. “I like it very much.”

The man laughed, delighted. His eyes widened and he clapped his hands.

“Oh! We should celebrate. I’ll go get something special for dinner.”

He ran out of the house before Lyla could blink. The back door slammed shut behind him.

Lyla immediately started to head for the front door, but before she could move the man was back.

“I nearly forgot,” he said, “if you leave, I’ll have to kill you and your family.”

He smiled at her. Then he was gone again.

Lyla felt herself shaking. She looked around for anything that could possibly help her, and her eyes fell on the phone on the wall beside the refrigerator. She quickly picked up the handset and held it to her ear.

Total silence. The phone line had been disconnected. 

She sat down at the kitchen table and cried.

After several minutes of crying she picked herself up and went down to the basement, the only place that hadn’t been included in the house tour. Maybe there was something in there that could help her to get help, or at least something made of wood that she could turn into a stake and stab into his heart.

Had she just thought that?

She had. He couldn’t kill anyone else if he was dead after all. Technically he had killed her. She could call it self-defence.

She opened the basement door and peered into the darkness. She could see almost as well as if the basement was in direct sunlight. There was a workbench and another door that led to a root cellar. The handle of a hammer might work as a stake, or even part of the workbench if she was desperate.

Who was she kidding? She was desperate.

She was just about to go to work at breaking down the work bench she took a closer look at what was resting on top of it and bizarrely felt herself smiling.

Matches and several cans of kerosene.

She didn’t know why they were there, and she didn’t care. What mattered was that matches and kerosene could make a big fire. Fire she could use.

Keeping her ears open for the man’s return, she went to work. 

Four hours later her trap was laid. And just in time, as just as she was hiding the stake she had ended up making out of an old broom handle behind the blood splattered couch in the sitting room the back door in the kitchen opened and the man came breezing in. Lyla went to the kitchen, moving just as fast as he was.

The man put the gym bag he was carrying down on the kitchen table. Then he took her in his arms and kissed her.

Lyla froze.

“Did you miss me, my love?” the man asked.

Lyla smiled and nodded, not yet able to speak. He had kissed her. He had _kissed her._ She had never been kissed before and now her first kiss was from a murderer.

And if her plan didn’t work it would also likely end up being her last kiss.

The man turned to the bag, leaving Lyla to quickly pull herself back together before he could notice anything was amiss. “As promised, I brought something special for dinner.”

The man reached into the bag and pulled out something that squirmed in his arms. He turned around and proudly showed her the wriggling, red-faced baby in a little green jumpsuit that he had stolen out of its stroller when no one was looking.

The man smiled. “Do you like it?”

No, no she didn’t like it. Oh, this was bad. This was bad, bad, bad, bad.

Lyla smiled back. “It’s wonderful, my king. Where did you get it?”

“In town,” the man said, “at the park. Your mother was there. I stopped to say hello to her and that’s when I saw it.”

He talked to her mom!

“How did my mother seem?” Lyla asked carefully.

“Oh, very sad,” the man said. “She wasn’t ready to let you go, was she? But love finds a way. Love always finds a way.”

The baby kicked its dangling legs and gave a sudden wail. Maybe the smell of stale blood was getting to it.

The man looked at the baby. His irises grew red and his fangs began to poke out from under his top lip.

“Let me take it,” Lyla said quickly. “We wouldn’t want you to spoil dinner after you did all that work it get it.”

The man looked at Lyla and the red faded from his eyes. “You are correct, my queen.”

He looked at Lyla slyly. “Perhaps just a taste?”

Lyla forced out a laugh. “Not until dinner. Hand it over.”

The man gave her the crying baby, which she carefully balanced on one hip.

While she worked to calm the child down, Lyla said offhandedly, “I nearly forgot, Mother wanted to speak with you when you got home.”

The man shook his head with a smile playing across his lips. “She always does. Did the two of you talk while I was out?”

“Not as much as I would have liked,” Lyla said truthfully.

If Mother could have talked that would mean she was alive.

“Let us both go see her then,” the man said.

Lyla smiled and closed her hand tightly around the book of matches that was hidden by the baby’s loose-fitting jumpsuit. She offered her other hand to the man and together they walked into the sitting room.

The smell in the sitting room was much, much worse than in the rest of the house. It was so strong that even a vampiric sense of smell couldn’t detect the kerosene that had been mixed with the blood on the floor.

It also shocked the baby into silence. The poor child blinked rapidly and helpfully decided to burry its face in Lyla’s dirt covered shirt rather than doing something like throwing up.

Lyla led the man to a patch of carpet that was absolutely soaked with kerosene. He thankfully didn’t notice the liquid seeping through his sneakers, or maybe he thought it was blood, Lyla didn’t know.

“You wanted to see me, Mother?”

While the man waited for Mother to reply, Lyla shifted her hold on the baby, struck a match, and dropped it between his feet.

Flames leapt up past his ankles. Lyla darted away as they spread out around him and climbed up onto his sneakers, chasing after the kerosene she had spread.

The man screamed.

“Mother! My queen!”

Lyla tried not to step in Mother as she ran across the room. She failed, and slipped the last few lengths to the couch before she caught herself. She grabbed the broom handle from behind the couch and held it up, pointing the sharpened end at the man.

“No,” the man cried. “My queen, no!”

The flames had eaten their way up his pants by then, and he made it worse by falling to his knees on the burning carpet. He reached out towards Lyla, looking genuinely upset that she was leaving him. There were even tears running down his face, though those could have been caused by the smoke billowing into his face.

“Please, my queen. Please…” 

Lyla backed away from him, keeping her stake leveled at his chest. Yet, something about that useless stretching out of his arm brought tears to her eyes.

Though, again, those could have been caused by smoke.

“I am sorry about this,” Lyla said thickly.

She stabbed the sharped broom handle into his chest. The point caught briefly at the corner where the two sides of his ribcage met before continuing upwards and piercing his heart.

The man gave a horrible scream, and then he was silent. His body decayed before her eyes until it matched the state it would have been it had he been dead for almost a year. He was a young vampire then, practically a baby, to have only been converted less than a year ago.

Lyla let go of the broom handle and watched the corpse fall into the fire. “Rest in peace.”

The baby coughed.

“Yes, we’re going now,” Lyla told it. 

The flames were running across the room towards them. Despite her kerosene soaked flats, Lyla stayed a moment longer to watch the man’s body being consumed by the fire. Then she ran out the door with the baby in her arms, leaving the burning room far behind them.


	4. Sunday Afternoon

Someone saw the fire. Lyla wasn’t sure how, but that was the only explanation she could think of for why the long gravel driveway was packed with people arguing with each other in hushed voices while an ambulance and a fire engine loitered in the street.

“We have to go in there,” a man insisted.

“We can’t,” a woman said. “It’s his home.”

“Then we can get the humans to go inside,” a boy suggested, pointing towards the two emergency vehicles.

The woman snorted delicately. “Humans won’t last a second against him.” 

“I told you that kid was going to be trouble,” Monsieur Leblanc grumbled.

Wait, Monsieur Leblanc?

Lyla blinked. No, the sunlight wasn’t messing with her vison that much, she was seeing that correctly. Monsieur Leblanc was standing at the head of the crowd with his arms crossed across his chest and his eyes narrowed at every other vampire who looked at him.

Every person standing there was a vampire.

Lyla walked towards them, making sure that gravel crunched underneath her feet. They all went silent and looked towards the sound.

Monsieur Leblanc was the first to make a move. In a blink he ran and appeared beside Lyla, speaking to her rapidly in French.

“Parle lentement,” Lyla said, “ou parler en Anglais.”

That was pretty much the extent of her French.

Monsieur Leblanc took a deep breath. “Are you alright?”

Lyla blinked at him. “Not really.”

The baby squirmed in her arms and commanded attention by letting out a cry. Lyla looked down at the baby and back up at the group of vampires.

“Does anyone know whose baby this is?”

There was a very brief whirlwind of activity that resulted in Lyla and the baby being looked over by the paramedics while Lyla tried to answer questions fired at her by two female vampire cops dressed all in black.

Huh, so those did exist, vampires that dressed all in black, that is. Vampire cops were common knowledge.

“Are you sure that he’s dead?” the taller of the two vampire women asked for the third time.

“I saw him decay,” Lyla insisted. “Why won’t you just go check the house?”

“We’re having some trouble with the fire that you set,” the shorter woman said, “but we’ll get there.”

She looked sideways at the taller woman, who swallowed whatever it was that she had been going to say.

“Can I go home now?” Lyla asked, looking from the two vampires to the paramedics and back.

The paramedics nodded. “You’ve just got some first-degree burns,” one of them said. “You’ll be fine in a few days.”

“We’re going to have to arrest you,” the tall vampire woman said flatly.

“What?” Lyla exclaimed.

“No, we’re not,” the short vampire woman said. “It was self-defence, Charlotte.”

“Ninety percent of newborn male vampires can’t be held responsible for their actions in the first three years after conversion,” the tall vampire, Charlotte, argued. “What he did was no reason for her to kill him.”

That was something Lyla hadn’t learned in biology. It was nice to know that the man could have gotten away with murder.

“He killed me,” Lyla said. “Isn’t that enough of a reason?”

The two vampire women looked at her.

“You look very much alive to me,” Charlotte said, wrinkling her nose.

Well, the number of vampires in the area was probably messing with the bioelectricity sensor thing that older vampires could use to figure out who was a human and who was a vampire. Lyla took a breath to say something to that effect and choked.

Not again. Hadn’t it only been a few hours?

The short woman was the first to realize what was happening. She darted into the ambulance and in half a second was back with a bottle of blood that she uncapped and handed to Lyla.

“Thanks,” Lyla gasped after she’d drained the bottle without stopping to breathe once she was able to. “Now can I go home?”

“Yes,” the short woman said before her partner could say anything. “Yes, you can go home.”

Monsieur Leblanc ran part of the way with her since Lyla didn’t know which way to go to get home from the farmhouse. He stopped at the end of her street and waited while she went three houses down and knocked at her front door.

No purse meant not cell phone _and_ no house keys.

The sound of footsteps came towards the front of the house. The door opened and Lyla’s mother stood in the doorway for several moments, completely stunned.

“Hi, Mom,” Lyla said.

Her mother let out a cry and threw her arms around her. Lyla hugged her back, very lightly so that her mother wouldn’t be crushed by her new strength.

“My baby,” her mother sobbed. “My baby, I thought I’d lost you!”

“I’m here, Mom,” Lyla said. “I’m home.”

* * *

The End


End file.
